Fun and Games
by Emmeebee
Summary: Nebula and Tony interact. Minor spoilers for Endgame. Will replace this with the real summary after some time has passed.


It was the twenty-first day when Nebula gave up all hope of getting out of there. Prior to that, she and Tony had searched for a way out, trying to create alternate forms of fuel or engineer a device capable of getting a message to his allies on Terra. But then they had run out of supplies. Even if they managed to send a distress signal now, they wouldn't last the time it would take for somebody to reach them.

Neither of them had acknowledged the situation aloud.

Neither of them had had to.

At first, Tony had been broken but determined; a state she knew all too well. But as time wore on, he had grown more and more frazzled before, finally, resignation seeped in.

'Let's play a game,' he said after yet another failed search of the ship. 'If we're going to…'

He trailed off, his voice breaking as his face contorted in sorrow. It was an expression Nebula had seen many times over her years as an assassin for Thanos. A weak emotion, she'd always thought, but perhaps it was justified.

'If we're going either way,' he said firmly, 'let's not be miserable when it happens. What do space people do for fun? Zero-Gravity Tennis?'

'Fun.' The word felt foreign in her mouth.

'Yeah. Fun. Games. Friendly competitive play.'

Nebula frowned. She had vague recollections of _playing _as a child, but it had been so long that it was more of an idea than a memory. 'My father used to make my sister and I fight until one of us couldn't stand anymore. That was competitive.'

'Oh.' Tony watched her, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was seeing more than she wanted him to. 'I don't think either of us has the energy _or_ medical supplies for that. Paper football it is, then.'

She hesitated. 'What's paper football?'

Taking a piece of paper, Tony carefully folded it over and over until it was shaped like a padded triangle. 'This is the ball.'

He held it out, and Nebula took it cautiously, staring at it in confusion. It looked like no ball she had ever seen.

'And _this_,' he added, making a circle with his arms and pressing the tips of his index fingers together, thumbs pointed upwards, 'is the goalpost. We take turns trying to score by flicking the ball so it goes through the space above the other person's index fingers and between their thumbs.'

'And Terrans do this for amusement?'

'We do when there's nothing else to do.'

'And what does the winner get?'

He shrugged. 'Bragging rights.'

Why not? Nebula had nothing to lose. Holding the triangle in her palm, she flicked it off her hand. It flopped down on the table in front of her.

She growled in frustration.

'That wasn't a bad first try.'

'But it wasn't a good one.'

'Try doing it this way.' He gestured for her to create the strange goalpost with her own arms. She did, feeling a strange rush of pride when he nodded that she'd done it right. Then, he stood the paper upright on the table and, balancing it with a single finger, flicked it with the other hand.

It didn't get _in_, but it got closer than hers had.

'My turn.' Taking the paper as he set himself up again, she tried to mimic his actions.

'Aim higher.'

Nebula adjusted her right hand, glancing up at him for confirmation before flicking the paper near the tip. It soared through the air in an arc that had the height, even though it was lacking in direction.

'Now, it's just practice.'

-x-

When Tony told Nebula she'd won, she couldn't believe it. She'd defeated foes in battle or on the racks, but this — beating someone at something that wasn't life-or-death, and where he didn't seem to mind losing — was new.

And… _nice_.

When she was younger, she'd wanted Gamora to hold back in their fights as an act of mercy — to spare her from the agony of their father's torture. It was something that would have cost her sister nothing but been priceless to her, and over the years, her resentment and fury had centred on the pair's remorselessness.

But for the first time, she realised that wasn't the only thing she'd been denied. By pitting them against each other constantly, Thanos had made it so neither of them had ever had the chance to enjoy a moment of genuine friendly competition.

What would it have been like to cross blades or match wits with Gamora in a way that was _fun_ rather than _desperate_?

'This is normal on Ter— on Earth?' she asked, correcting herself as she remembered the pain that flitted across his face whenever she used the intergalactic name for his planet. At first, she'd ignored it — enjoyed it, even. Now, she couldn't bring herself to keep doing it. 'Playing games?'

'What can I say? We like wasting time.'

If they managed to get out of there, and if Nebula managed to survive killing her father, maybe it would be worth paying a visit to Earth. What other things did people do there for Tony to think that something like this was a waste? 'It's not wasted.'

Tony met her eyes and smiled, but his eyes were sad.

Her skin itched. After he'd done so much to try to engage with her, to be _kind _to her, she wanted to do something to take away his suffering. It was an odd feeling, wanting to comfort someone, and it wasn't one she knew what to do with.

She settled on the only thing she could think of. 'Your friends may still find us in time.'

The words sounded hollow, even to her.

'Maybe.'

Nebula looked down at the folded-up piece of paper. That was one thing, at least, that could distract them both. 'What's another Earth game we can "play"?'


End file.
